


This is how the fire starts. This is how we burn.

by yuletide_archivist



Category: Gemma Doyle Trilogy - Libba Bray
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-12-20
Updated: 2006-12-20
Packaged: 2018-01-25 04:07:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1630682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yuletide_archivist/pseuds/yuletide_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The circumstances and first meeting between Felicity and Ithal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This is how the fire starts. This is how we burn.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to my sister for beta-ing my story and assuring me it was romantic enough and not too mushy.   
>  The title comes from a quote in the book, A Great and Terrible Beauty.   
> This is only part of Felicity's and Ithal's story, I realize, but the time restraints and my procrastination let me only get so far- I may be back to revisit the rest of it later on. Check my journal. :) 
> 
> Written for Hannahrose

 

 

_"I am going to have many men." She says this matter-of-factly, as if commenting on the weather, but she has to know she's being scandalous._

Pippa doesn't know whether to gasp or giggle so she does both. "Felicity, that's shocking!"

Felicity smells blood, She's on the scent of our discomfort and won't let go. "I am. Hordes of men! Members of Parliament and stable boys. Moors and Irishmen. Disgraced dukes! Kings!

Pippa has her hands over her ears. "No!" she screams. "Don't tell me any more!" But she's laughing, too. She loves Felicity's brazenness.

Felicity is up, dancing, throwing herself around like a whirling dervish. "I'm going to have presidents and captains of industry! Actors and Gypsies! Poets and artists and men who will die just to touch the hem of my dress!"

~ A Great and Terrible Beauty

***

"Mrs. Nightwing says there are gypsies in the woods," Cecily said quietly, as they all looked into the woods where the crocket ball had vanished after a particularly enthusiastic swing by Pippa.

"And if there is? They wouldn't dare do anything to us," Felicity responded dismissively. None of the other girls answered and Pippa refused to meet her eyes.

Felicity sighed. "I'll go get the ball, Pippa. Nobody will kidnap me. If they did, my father would have them strung up from a yard-arm."

She smirked, "Besides, perhaps there is a virile young gypsy in the woods who will consent to be my lover..." she paused for dramatic effort and the shocked giggles let her know that she had succeeded in her task.

Pippa clutched her arm. "Thank you so much, Felicity. I am sorry about my clumsy aim."

"It's no problem, dear Pippa," Felicity said graciously, and gave her a kiss on the cheek. She continued airily, "I shall be back in a few minutes girls, carry on without me. Unless anyone would like to keep me company?" She didn't wait for a response.

***

"Bother. Darn. _Damn_ ," Felicity cursed as she bunched her skirts up and continued to pick her way through the dense brush. She glanced behind her quickly to check if anyone had heard her swear, but as she had suspected, none of the other girls had followed her into forest.

The day was overcast and muggy and she could feel the beads of sweat collecting on her brow as she pushed through the tangle of branches. This could take her all day. Damn Pippa and her horrible aim... but at least it gave her a chance to be away from the other girls for a while. A chance to get away from their frivolous chatter and whining. She could appreciate that.

"Aha!" she said triumphantly as she spotted the bright red ball lying in the bushes ahead. She bent down and stretched out her hand to pick it up, but as she reached forward, a large, brown hand scooped it up and held it out towards her. She gasped and looked up to see gold-flecked eyes staring at her warily.

***

Ithal had not meant to get so close to the edge of the forest. His brother had told him that the Englishmen did not appreciate them so close to their settlements, and warned him they would set their dogs on any _Rom_ that they saw. But this was a school for their English girls. The English did not let their women venture anywhere beyond their neatly kept grounds and so Ithal had no qualms about hunting rabbits close to the edge. These animals were complacent and soft from having no predators, an easy kill and a tasty meal.

The soft rustling came from the bushes ten strides in front of him. He crept forward from where he had been crouching between two large oak trees, quietly withdrawing his sling and slipping a stone into it.

The rustling grew louder and he realized it was making too much noise for a rabbit- perhaps a deer? Or perhaps a sheep who had wandered outside of its flock. Ithal smiled and quickly patted his boot, the slight imprint of his blade reassuring him that he would be prepared for whichever animal he encountered.

But it was not an rabbit, or deer, or sheep. It was not an animal at all; it was a girl. An English girl- one of the girls from the school on the hill- her white uniform identifying her without question. Ithal ducked behind the nearest bushes immediately. But she appeared not to have noticed him, her attention focused on searching for something.

He tucked his sling into his pouch at his hip. He should leave. Leave before she realized he was there and screamed. He knew the cautionary stories as well as any of his clan. Keep interactions with the English strictly as business and do not go near their women.

He could hear her footsteps trampling through the dry brush and decided it would be better to wait until she found her object and left. But he couldn't resist another look though, as it was the first time he had ever been close to an English girl. Likely it would be the only time.

She was as different from any of the _Roma_ girls as the night was from the day. The girls in his clan were bright and loud, vibrant in their multicolor skirts and gold jewelry, giggling and giving him coy looks from the other side of the caravan as he chopped wood.

This girl was as pale as a spirit, her hair the color of the early corn and her skin just a shade darker than the white skirt and lacey blouse she was wearing. A faint blush of pink stained her cheeks as she yanked her skirt free of an offending branch. She was taller than most _Roma_ girls and her face was strong, with imperious eyebrows. He couldn't see the color of her eyes, but he imagined that they were same color as the early night sky. She was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen.

And she was walking right towards the bushes he was hiding in. "Aha!" he heard her exclaim. He suddenly noticed the small red ball just an arms-length away in front of the bush beside him. He should stay quiet and hope she doesn't notice him. He could probably slip away and she'd be none the wiser. He could hear his brother's voice in his head telling him he should not in any circumstance pick up that ball.

But he did so anyway.

He held it out carefully to the girl, who was standing frozen in front of him, her mouth open slightly.

"Please, don't scream," he heard himself saying to her. He cleared his throat. "Please, you don't scream. I am no here to hurt you."

She stood up slowly, her movements careful and slow. Her eyes flicked from his face to the ball he held out to her, open-handed. She closed her eyes for a moment and then opened them and he saw that he had been wrong in their color. They were not blue, but rather a pale grey, the color of the sea before a storm.

She met his eyes. "I'm not going to scream," she said, her voice strong and direct. "You have my word." She smiled and plucked the ball from his hand.

***

It was her gypsy lover. Felicity stifled the hysterical giggle that was threatening to rise. In all her wild imaginings and daydreams, never had there been a moment when she had thought she would actually meet any of the men she had thoughts about. It was simply not something a young woman did.

She felt slightly dizzy as she stood up. The gypsy boy held out the ball and spoke to her softly, imploring her in his thick accent not to scream.

The dizziness had passed and she pulled herself together. She mustered a smile and informed him she wouldn't scream. She reached out, allowing her fingertips to touch the palm of his hand, as she took back the ball. He suppressed a shiver and she noticed that he clenched his hand and dropped his eyes as she moved back a couple of steps. Her smile widened.

He was a good looking boy, perhaps a couple years older than she. Not terribly tall, but strong-looking. A thick shock of black hair fell straight down to his shoulders, so very different than the London boys with their short, neatly groomed hair. A full white shirt billowed out and was neatly tucked into worn and patched leather trousers. Thick eyebrows stood out on his tanned face and his eyes were the most extraordinary color, dark brown with flecks of gold, framed by long eyelashes that would make any Spence girl jealous.

Poor boy looked spooked. Likely imagining that she would scream or faint like a proper young lady was supposed to do in the event she found herself alone with a gypsy.

"Thank you very much for your assistance," she said softly, so as not to spook him.

"You are welcome, lady," he responded, bobbing a small bow, his eyes still trained on the ground.

"Do you live in these woods?" she asked.

He shook his head. "No, lady."

"Close by then?"

He began to nod, but then caught himself, and violently shook his head. His head was still bowed.

Felicity huffed a small sigh, impatient. She walked closer to him. He tensed but made no move to leave.

She hesitated for a second, and then slipped two fingers underneath his chin and tilted it slowly upwards so she could see his face.

She could feel him swallow and she felt the prickly stubble rasp against her skin. His golden eyes were open wide with a hint of fear, and she felt fleeting triumph at the sight of his fear. She withdrew her fingers.

"What is your name?" she asked.

"Ithal, lady," he said, and stood up to deliver a proper bow. "At your service." He had regained his composure enough to give her a lascivious wink and grin. She ignored his gestures and didn't speak again until his smile faltered.

"You know these woods well?"

"Yes, I know the woods," he looked puzzled at the question.

She paused. They both stared at each other without speaking for a few moments.

She hesitated, and then summoned up her courage. "You know the boathouse by the lake?" she finally asked, surprised at her own daring.

"...yes," he said slowly, his stare filled with curiosity.

"Felicity!"

The distant call made them both jump.

"I should go," she said.

He nodded.

She cradled the ball in her left hand and started to turn. But she stopped and turned back to him. Her heart began to beat faster and she heard the thud in her ears. Would she dare?

Felicity took a deep breath. "The boathouse is my favorite place at Spence," she told him, attempting what she hoped was a seductive smile.

He looked back at her, his face giving nothing away. She didn't know if he had understood her.

"Felicity!!"

She gave him a frustrated look. "Good-bye," she said quickly, and made her decision. She didn't wait for his response but turned, starting to make her way back to the edge.

"Good-bye," she heard him call softly but she didn't look back.

***

Ithal let out the breath he had been holding and a shaky laugh came out with it. He watched her blonde head bob and duck as she made her way out of the forest.

As soon as he could no longer see her, he let his eyes drop and he shook his head. Crazy English girl- he did not understand all her talk about the boathouse. Beautiful girl though.

A flash of white caught his eye as he turned to leave. He frowned and went over to where a square of white cloth, embroidered with a lacey edge lay on the ground. She must have dropped it. There were symbols of the English writing on it, but they did not interest him. He picked it up, and the delicate scent of lavender wafted towards him.

Her handkerchief.

He looked up but as he expected, she was already long gone.

But she had mentioned the boathouse. And he suddenly realized what she had been asking of him.

He remembered the feeling of her cool, soft fingers touching his skin. He remembered the light gold of her hair, wisps of it escaping her bun and curling on her pale forehead. He remembered the soft curve of her jaw. He remembered the determination behind those storm-grey eyes. He wondered what it would be like to run his hand down her delicate neck, to discover what lay underneath those heavy fabrics.

Perhaps there would be a chance to discover what lay beneath this night. He began to bunch the handkerchief but then stopped himself. He folded the handkerchief carefully and put it in his pouch and began to walk back to the camp, whistling cheerfully.

***

Felicity pulled her velvet cape closer to her against the cold as she waited in the shadow of a large tree by the lake. She continually scanned the trees, looking for any dark shadows.

Moonlight shone bright on the water and the wind rustled the rushes at the water's edge. Small splashes and faint croaks from frogs drifted across the lake to where she was sitting. She shivered.

She sighed and slowly began to stand up. It had stupid of her to assume that the gypsy boy was clever enough to understand her message. It had been stupid of her to even risk this meeting. If she were caught with this Ithal boy, she would be thrown out of Spence and her reputation would be ruined. But then again, that was also what made it an amusing divertissement. Spence had become boring; she had already conquered the system. She had to find excitement _somewhere_. Of course, she couldn't tell any of the other girls, not even Pippa. They simply wouldn't understand.

The back of her neck prickled and her stomach turned into knots as she realized she was no longer alone. Still, she did not say anything, just waited as the barely heard footsteps made their way behind her.

"My lady," his whisper was soft and uncertain in her ear. She could feel the heat radiating off his body as he stood beside her.

She tilted her head sideways to nuzzle his neck. His arms circled around her, and for a moment she fought down panic that screamed she was being trapped. He seemed to sense her panic and he loosened his hold, removing one hand altogether from her waist. He found her hand and placed something soft and white, closing her fingers over it. Her handkerchief she had dropped.

"You forget this," he said simply.

"Than- thank you for bringing it back," she said, her voice more breathless than she would have liked.

He slowly turned her around, so they were facing each other. Slowly, with his eyes watching her closely, he moved his hands from her waist up to cup her face.

"You are welcome, lady," he told her, and gently stroked her cheek. His strange eyes glinted gold in the moonlight.

She stared at him for a moment. Then, she leaned forward and tilted her head upward, blindly searching. She could feel his sharp intake of air as she pressed against his lips and then he pulled her closer, his kiss deepening and his lips a strange pressure against her own. She embraced it willingly, throwing herself into the kiss as she gave it away. After all, it's not as if it were something precious, something to keep for her husband. Even she knew that much.

They broke the kiss.

"Felicity," she corrected him, when she finally caught her breath. And let out a bright laugh, giddy.

Ithal's white teeth flashed bright in the moonlight as he grinned. "Felicity," he said slowly. His strange accents on the syllables made her name exotic and dangerous as it could never be said by an Englishman.

He kissed her again and it tasted like freedom.

***

 

 

 


End file.
